


The Tangled Red String

by greygerbil



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-07-27 12:11:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16218782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greygerbil/pseuds/greygerbil
Summary: In a world full of soulmates Chris is left as a spare after the tragic death of his own fated partner many years ago. When he moves to St. Petersburg for a season, he finds that not everyone with a soulmate is set for perfect bliss, either, though, as Georgi can't seem to make the relationship with the man fate chose for him work at all. Chris and Georgi look for nothing but quick comfort with each other at first, but soon enough Chris finds himself questioning the tenets of destiny that many people think of as unshakeable.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The fic will contain some blood, many tears, and mentions of suicidal thoughts.
> 
> The title refers to the legend of the red string of fate, which just doesn't seem to go in a simple line for these boys.

“You’ll like it here. I found my place quickly – it’s a good rink to train at.”

Yuuri handed Chris his bottle from the bench, eyes gliding over the ice of the Sports Champions Club’s main practice rink. Following the trajectory of his gaze, Chris found himself having to choke down his water to stifle a laugh.

“Not to knock this rink or Yakov, but are you sure your appreciation isn’t based on other factors?” he asked, nudging Yuuri with his elbow.

Hastily, Yuuri turned his head to tear himself away from the sight of Victor, who was drawing amazingly graceful but technique-wise unchallenging circles on the ice, which Chris was sure meant he hadn’t been unaware of his soulmate’s eyes on him. When Chris raised an eyebrow and grinned, Yuuri could only give a lopsided smile.

“Young love must be beautiful,” Chris joked.

“I still can’t believe it sometimes,” Yuuri said quietly, shaking his head. “You know, that it would be Victor of all people.”

“Why not?” Chris shrugged. “You’ve always liked him a lot. Maybe you just knew. They say it works like that sometimes.”

Who could say with soulbonds, Chris thought, watching with silent amusement as Yuuri turned back to the rink, captivated by Victor once more. Over the course of his life, Chris had heard countless theories for the existence of soulmates. Some considered it nature’s dating service, a way to create couples and communities with strong individual ties of loyalty. Others opted for supernatural or divine interference. The fact that soulmates always seemed to run into each other spoke for that, even if, like Yuuri and Victor, they had been born on entirely different parts of the planet. Chris certainly found it funny to imagine an enraged goddess of love watching Yuuri and Victor compete in the same tournaments year after year without Yuuri ever daring to do so much as shake his hand, continually eluding the touch that would have put the soulmate mark on his body.

Chris wasn’t an expert, of course. He _had_ met his soulmate when they were each a year old, but another year later, that little boy destiny had picked out for Chris had stumbled from his grandmother’s fourth-floor balcony. Chris’ parents had told him that his soulmate had landed on his head and died immediately on impact – once Chris was old enough to understand what death even was. A few more years passed before it really settled in what he had lost that day.

It did give him an interesting perspective, though, being left over in a world full of people pairing up, and that was probably the best Chris could hope for regarding that whole matter, so he would take it.

“Where is Georgi?” Yakov asked into the hall, tearing Chris and Yuuri both from their private thoughts.

Thanks to his friendship with Victor and some stints at Moscow training camps in his junior years, Chris had been motivated long ago to pick up enough Russian to get by. After yesterday’s cab ride from the airport with an especially heavily accented driver chewing tobacco, he had briefly doubted if it was really enough to communicate with the natives of his new home for this year, because he hadn’t understood a word that guy had said. Thankfully, so far he could still follow the gist of most conversations.

“He was in the changing room before,” a young man Chris hadn’t seen before said, pulling strands of long dark hair back into an untidy ponytail.

“Someone tell him to hurry. I don’t have all day.”

“I’ll go,” Chris said with an amicable smile. He hadn’t seen Georgi yet since he’d arrived and running a few errands for the coach never hurt when you were the newbie at the rink.

The changing rooms were dark, with small frosted glass windows set too high to look out of allowing only flickers of pale spring sun into the room. For a moment, Chris didn’t see anyone, but then spotted Georgi in a corner half-concealed by the jackets hanging behind him. He was holding his phone with both hands. From the twitch his shoulders gave, Chris gathered he was crying.

Granted, it wasn’t the first time Chris had seen that, considering how much of himself Georgi put into his skates. Off the ice, though, Georgi usually tried to appear aloof. He wasn’t always very good at it, but it was the first time Chris saw him sobbing in that exhausted, compulsive, mostly soundless way that people got when they had passed the moment of crisis and just didn’t know how to stop anymore.

“What’s up?” Chris asked, gently placing a hand on his shoulder.

Georgi jumped and stared at him. For a moment, confusion chased away the misery on his face, before he turned away his head and quickly wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Chris? I thought you said you’d come next week?”

“Change of plans. I think Yakov wants to put me through my paces before I start working on any choreographies,” Chris said with a smile. “Right now, he’s looking for you, though.”

“Oh. I’ll be there,” Georgi muttered, putting his phone aside to finish lacing up his left skate.

Curiosity got the better of Chris as he glanced at the screen, dreading to find a message about someone’s passing or something equally tragic on there. Instead, it was a Facebook picture of two men cuddling up to each other, arm in arm, sharing a cone of ice cream and grinning into the camera one of them held outstretched in his hand.

“What’s so terrible about this picture?” Chris asked, wondering if Georgi had attempted to distract himself with social media from whatever it was that had upset him.

Georgi stared stubbornly down at his skates.

“The man on the right,” he said, deep voice teetering on the edge of breaking.

Chris checked again. The man on the right was willowy and tall, with a shock of light brown curls and a smattering of freckles over his cheeks. His dark eyes crinkled as he smiled, which made him look friendly. Chris didn’t quite see why the sight of him would send someone into a sobbing fit.

“What about him?” Chris eventually asked into the silence.

“That’s my soulmate.”

Well, that did indeed put a different spin on the picture, Chris would admit. He hadn’t expected that. Obviously some soulmates fought, some even cheated. However, Georgi had found his soulmate ten or eleven years ago. Chris would expect after all that time they would have ironed out the kinks. After all, at least every other program Georgi had skated in his adult career had been dedicated to this soulmate, as he hadn’t gotten tired to tell every interviewer who asked and most who didn’t.

Georgi shut off the phone. Chris caught a glimpse of the lock screen before it turned dark: the same man, sans uncomfortable hanger-on.

“Did you have a fight?”

“No,” Georgi said, quietly, as he got to his feet. He pocketed the phone and pursed his lips. “He’s – not ready yet. To be together. We tried again at the start of the year, but...”

He shrugged, and the trailing end of this pitiful half-sentence needed no elaboration after the picture Chris had seen.

“Didn’t you meet a long while ago?”

Georgi only dropped his gaze to his feet again and opened the door to the changing room, balancing on the blunt edges of his skate guards. Swallowing his curiosity, Chris followed.

As Georgi got on the ice, Victor turned to look at him and cocked his head inquisitively as Georgi answered his gaze. Yakov had taken note of him as well.

“Ilya,” Georgi just said.

Victor turned his eyes skyward. A line around Yakov’s mouth grew tight for a moment before he told Georgi to start with the warm-up and admonished him for being late. There was a familiarity about the way the answer was treated, like the name of one’s soulmate was in and of itself an explanation for starting a practice session in tears, which struck Chris as an odd state of affairs even for someone as emotionally involved as Georgi.

-

Yakov’s first practice session took Chris’ mind off the relationships of his fellow skaters for a solid while. Chris would dare to say he may have forgotten the names of all his own short-lived affairs after Yakov had made him show every last jump, spin and footwork sequence in his repertoire and tore to shreds even the most minute technical inconsistencies. He was panting like he’d run a marathon around the city when he found himself on break in the front hall, considering the offerings of a bulky, brown vending machine with dusty glass that looked like it had sat here since the Soviet era.

“I think he likes you.”

Chris turned. Georgi stood behind him, a towel wrapped around his neck.

“ _I_ think he’s trying to kill me,” Chris gave back.

“If you weren’t worth the trouble, he wouldn’t.”

Chris laughed weakly.

“I’ll try to feel honoured when I can breathe again.” Chris touched Georgi’s elbow and pointed at the vending machine with its rows of cans and bottles. “Can you help me out here? Which energy drink doesn’t taste like acid?”

Georgi levelled a gaze of serious contemplation at the selection. Standing close, Chris saw that his eyes were still reddish.

“This one,” Georgi tapped the glass with one long finger, “is good if you want something refreshing. The lime isn’t too sweet and it doesn’t have a lot of calories.”

“Wonderful.”

Chris ordered two bottles from the machine via a faded number pad and fed it some freshly exchanged coins. He handed one bottle to Georgi, who looked surprised.

“Consider it payment for showing me the way to the break room – there is one, right?”

Georgi nodded his head.

“You looked like you needed a pick-me-up, anyway,” Chris continued.

Georgi drew his eyebrows together.

“It’s not so bad,” he said. It didn’t sound like he was really talking to Chris. “He _is_ my soulmate, so eventually, everything will be alright.”

“I guess so,” Chris said with a smile.

He followed Georgi down a short hallway into a room with wooden benches and a view onto the training rink, where Yuuri and Yuri were practicing jumps at opposite ends. It was not his place to ask Georgi what made him think so after a decade. Maybe there had been better times. Maybe it was one of these things that people liked to tell Chris he would just never get, since he didn’t know what it was like with a soulmate. Could be true, but Chris didn’t know if there weren’t some things he actually didn’t want to understand. If he’d been lucky enough to have a soulmate, he doubted he would have paraded a lover around on social media, anyway. Of course, it was often tempting to be careless with things that you thought belonged to you and that you didn’t expect you could lose. Chris, however, had grown up with the sharp awareness of how quickly even the person express-delivered to you by destiny could be snatched away again by that same force.

He took a sip of the drink, which was pleasantly cool and just slightly sour.

“Since you’re not going to do it, can I call your soulmate a dick for you until he cleans up his act?” he asked Georgi with a grin.

A slight smile tugged at the corner of Georgi’s mouth. He straightened his back. “Have you seen the whole club yet? I can show you around.”

“Good idea,” Chris said, pointing at him with his bottle.

Chris watched Georgi lean down to unlace his skates. His training outfit was sleeveless, revealing the thick black letters written into the skin of his right biceps. Chris’ Cyrillic reading could take some more practice, but he recognised the name ‘Ilya’, shifting as the lean muscle underneath moved when Georgi stretched his arm. Chris’ own mark had been between his shoulder blades, though it had long faded away with the death of his soulmate. At least between the shoulder blades was a better spot for it when you were pissed, he imagined. He didn’t like the idea of being reminded that he was tied by a leash of fate to the person who was making out with someone else every time he looked down at his own arm.

Chris took off his own skates and followed Georgi on socks.

“There’s two arenas with seats in the front, one for ice hockey and one for figure skating. I think you know that one.”

“Yeah, I think I beat you there a couple times,” Chris said, grinning.

Georgi pushed up his chin, ignoring the comment.

“Hockey players practice here, too?”

“SKA Saint Petersburg’s home arena is the Ice Palace across the city. They do sometimes come here, though.”

“Any of them good-looking?” Chris asked, raising a brow.

“Why would I know?” Georgi gave back, hastily. “I have a soulmate.”

“You still have eyes,” Chris pointed out with a snort. “Don’t tell me you never even look.”

“You’ll have to find out about the SKA players yourself,” Georgi deflected.

Chris wondered if Georgi was as virtuous as he claimed to be. From all he’d seen, he certainly seemed to be loyal as a dog, but if the speed of his answer was any indication, Ilya’s behaviour had tested the limits of that devotion. Anyway, Georgi looked sullen now and Chris hadn’t meant to tease him too badly. He slung his arm around Georgi’s shoulders.

“Alright, then I’ll have a look and tell you if there’s anyone you could use to make - what’s his name? - Ilya jealous with.”

“I doubt that would work.”

Once more, Chris was tempted to ask, but stopped himself.

“You’re being ridiculous,” Georgi added sternly. “Come, we’re not done yet. Down that hallway is a public access rink that we use outside of opening hours sometimes.”

“This is a big place,” Chris said. Not that he came from a village rink, precisely, but since the Sports Champions Club functioned as show arena, training space for several disciplines and even a public skating rink, it was obviously on another level.

“Yes. There is also the cafeteria and we have staff offices on the second floor.”

Georgi pointed at a small metal door with a sticker on it that indicated one would find a stairwell behind.

“What do they do?”

“Mostly event management. There’s also a janitor, in case you break a rink rail or something.”

“I think that depends on whether I find any handsome hockey players.”

Georgi gave a faint noise of exasperation that made Chris laugh. He took another sip of his energy drink.

“Sadly, I think I have to head back now, or I’ll get into trouble with Yakov. Thanks for showing me around.”

“I’m coming with you,” Georgi said.

They padded back the length of the hallway in their socks, passed by a group of girls in glittering tutus, a man swaying under the weight of too many hockey sticks as well as a young women with an armful of scuffed skating boots heading for the public rink.

“What are you working on while I’m being drilled?” Chris asked.

“I’m trying to figure out my short program, but I haven’t made a final decision on it yet. I think I would like something classical and tragic.”

“No shortage of that kind of music around, but haven’t you basically been skating tragedies for the last four years or so?”

Chris actually remembered quite a few of them in more detail, considering the one thing you could never say Georgi was even at his weakest was unmemorable. The intensity of his feelings always remained impressed on the audience even if he flubbed his jumps and his extravagant costumes and penchant for bombastic classical pieces certainly helped, too.

“I need to tap into my emotions to skate well,” Georgi answered in a voice that tried too hard to be blank, avoiding Chris’ eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

“Have you ever done any lifts?”

Chris finished his rocker turn, paying close attention to pulling off a clean edge switch with proper arm movements to match, before he shot Yakov a questioning gaze across the ice.

“Are you going to make me change tracks, coach? It’s a bit late into my career to become a pair skater.”

Yakov ignored the quip.

“There is a Sports Champions Club tradition,” he began. “All the coaches who work here put on an exhibition skate at the end of April. The media and the fans like it, it always fills the seats. Of course, Victor insists on doing a duet with Yuuri this year.” Yakov snorted. “For my seniors, I also want Yuri, Mila, and Georgi to run in my set. To better match Victor’s skate, I would like two singles and two duets. But Mila prefers skating alone and I’m not going to be able to teach Yuri to share the spotlight in three weeks,” he said dryly.

Chris remembered that there had actually been a second person in Yuri’s exhibition skate after the Grand Prix Finals, but doubted Yakov felt like wasting any of his skaters’ potential by leaving them standing at the side of the rink while someone else did ninety-nine percent of the performance. Otabek’s presence had really mostly underlined how much Yuri wasn’t going to be pushed out of focus by anyone.

“You want me to do an ice dance with Georgi,” Chris guessed.

“Can you do it? If you need the extra time to work on next season’s programs, I’m not making you,” Yakov clarified.

“I like to think I’m quick on the uptake. It shouldn’t be a problem.”

Chris hadn’t missed the fact that the theme of the particular set Yakov had told him about seemed to be ‘my star students’. Yuuri was an outsider good enough to fit in there and if Chris was considered to be in the same box, he’d be more than happy to prove Yakov right.

Yakov nodded with some satisfaction. He waved at Georgi, who was leaning against the wall of the rink talking to Yuri. When he noticed Yakov’s gesturing, he pushed off, joining them in a long glide that ended in a small, elegant half-turn to face his coach.

“I need to talk to you about the April exhibition skate. I want you to do a duet to match Victor and Yuuri.”

“I thought Mila doesn’t do pair skating,” Georgi said, cocking his head. “Do you want me to skate with Yuri?”

The slight trepidation in his voice proved that he seemed to share his coach’s concerns about his colleague’s teamwork abilities. Chris smiled to himself as he slid up behind Georgi and casually wrapped an arm around his hips. Georgi almost slipped on the ice as he jumped.

“We’ll have the honour,” Chris said against his ear.

“Oh.” Georgi looked more surprised than put off, which was a good start. “What are we doing?”

“You two and Victor and Yuuri are skating to movements of Berlioz’s _Symphonie Fantastique_.”

Yakov opened his mouth to go on, but was stopped by Georgi audibly drawing in air, his eyes lighting up. Chris thought he saw a trace of bemused indulgence in Yakov’s expression. Apparently, Georgi’s enthusiasm didn’t come as a shock.

“That’s a marvellous program!” Georgi declared.

“Well, Victor and Yuuri are going to dance to a part from the first movement, _Rêveries - Passions_ , and you’ll be taking on the second movement, _Un Bal_. It’s a romantic ice dance. Given that, you won’t be able to reuse it as an exhibition skate in a competition, but there might be other opportunities to show it off during the summer.”

“I would take any opportunity to skate to this music,” Georgi said with conviction.

“I think I can pull off pretending to have a crush at a ball,” Chris added.

“It’s more than just…”

Georgi interrupted himself at Yakov’s stern glance.

“Obviously, Georgi is very eager to explain the piece to you, Chris. I have a CD with the music on the laptop stand and the choreography is on the computer. Go look at it.”

“Yes,” Georgi said, obediently.

When Yakov released them with a nod, Chris and Georgi moved towards the little dolly with the laptop which stood on the walkway at the other side of the rink.

“So what _is_ the music about?” Chris asked.

Georgi’s somewhat melancholic smile grew.

“It’s about an artist falling in love with a woman who is the very image of perfection to him,” he said wistfully, “his soulmate, his muse in every way. Throughout the piece, she returns to him as the leitmotif. Yuuri and Victor are interpreting the part where he longs for her as an idea before she miraculously appears to him in person, a perfect image from his dreams. It’s the innocent beginning.”

“Innocent beginning, huh? Yakov probably had good reasons not to give that one to me,” Chris said, grinning.

Georgi threw him a reproachful glance.

“Our movement, _Un Bal_ , is in most parts a waltz. The artist meets his lover at a dance, but she eludes him there again and again and only teases him with brief indulgences. In the movements that come after, he starts to wonder if she is faithful. Convinced that she has forsaken him in movement four, he takes opium and falls into death-like sleep, imagining himself being brought to his own execution.”

“This got dark,” Chris said, raising a brow.

“It gets darker,” Georgi gave back, sounding pleased. “In the last movement, he finds himself at a witches’ Sabbath where his beloved is greeted by the other sorceresses. The leitmotif mixes with a variant of _Dies Irae_ , and that’s how the piece ends.”

“So his perfect lady-love is an evil witch who seduces him to come to the Sabbath as fodder? Scandalous. I like it.”

Georgi handed Chris one ear bud of the headphones lying coiled by the side of the computer and picked out one of a dozen folders on the desktop. He already seemed to know where to look for new pieces, which made sense, considering he had been with Yakov since time immemorial. Chris had been in the same shoes as him just a month ago, having stuck with one coach and rink for all of his serious career and only changing tracks when he had realised he was falling so far behind the pack that maybe he needed some new input. Josef, being the friend Chris had always seen him as, had understood. It was little details that often ended up reminding Chris that he was the new kid here.

There was a movie file with the title of their movement that opened up in a player, a steady camera focusing on an empty rink. Chris recognised the choreographer, whom he had been introduced to, but not his companion, a young woman with her black hair pulled back into a tight bun.

The music started with surprisingly dark tones for a ball before the string instruments picked up into a brighter, light-footed waltz. It was interrupted at two parts with a second melody, probably the leitmotif Georgi had mentioned, quieted down to the end after an especially wild part and then once more grew to full bombast. The two dancers came together and parted throughout the whole piece, one seemingly fleeing and dodging the other with quick footwork steps, indulging him only briefly before pushing him away again. There were a few lifts, but obviously it had been taken into consideration that Chris and Georgi were both men, neither of which were on the short or scrawny side, and they had to dance for six minutes.

“How open is Yakov to changing choreography elements?” Chris asked, when the performance was over.

Georgi seemed to wake from a trance as he looked up from the video.

“Usually, you just have to tell him and explain it. Why?”

“It’s a nice waltz and the longing comes through, but I don’t think it really communicates ‘secret witch and devoted victim’.”

Georgi frowned at the video now running on repeat. “It is a bit playful,” he admitted, after a moment. “This is where he starts to wonder if she still loves him. You’re right... he would be more desperate, and she should be feeding that.”

“Yeah, and Victor and Yuuri already get the movement that’s perfect for playing up the cute little crush. If I were our lover here, I’d be trying to keep that woman’s attention a lot harder than this.”

“Aren’t you going to be the witch, though?”

Chris glanced back at the video and then at Georgi. It was the obvious way to do it, especially if they were going to play up the witch as a tempestuous temptress. However, Georgi was the one who sank deeper into his programs, who at his best managed to keep up a ballet-like poise even as he was filled with the spirit of whatever character he was playing, and a witch was a more abstract concept than a love-struck fool.

“I think you should be the witch,” he said.

“What? Why?” Georgi asked. The confusion in his voice was strangely enough mixed with some annoyance.

“You always do good at fairy-tale stuff like that, firebirds and kings and whatever. I never quite know how to get a feel for them. I like being myself on the ice. The witch needs to be the better actor.”

“But I can’t do seductive.”

Georgi’s mouth had pressed into a thin line, but Chris could only laugh.

“What are you talking about? Of course you can, you’ve done it before.”

Granted, it wasn’t Chris levels of obvious sexuality infused into his skates. Georgi’s allure came from the lack of artifice of it, how it seemed to be a natural part of whatever else he was doing on the ice at the moment. It was there when it needed to be and absent when it didn’t fit the story he was telling. Chris had seen it multiple times.

“I can’t,” Georgi insisted.

Chris rolled his eyes.

“I didn’t realise you’re so shy...”

“I’m not _shy_! It’s just useless to put me in a role like that! I can’t even tempt my own soulmate to come to me!”

Georgi straightened, the anger fading as soon as it had come, leaving him looking both defiant and embarrassed.

Okay, that was what it was about. Now Georgi’s staunch resistance made some sense. Chris tapped the pause button on the video. It was easy not to take Georgi’s emotional outbursts too seriously when he was often fighting tears at the sight of things like an especially touching exhibition skate. This whole Ilya business, though, seemed to have dug deeper into his psyche, leaving an open wound Chris had put his fingers into. He had to try another angle.

“Never mind that – I don’t think you’re right, but even if you were, do you really want to be the one chasing after an elusive and treacherous lover? That doesn’t hit a little too close to home?”

“I’d play it well,” Georgi muttered. “I could put real emotion into it.”

“And, would that be fun?” Chris clapped him on the back. “This is supposed to be ice show fluff. Do you really want to cry in the changing room every evening?” 

“That’s not what would happen,” Georgi answered, gruffly, shaking him off.

“Still, save ripping open the wound for the season if you have to do it. Let’s just have a good time.”

Georgi exhaled. “I don’t know.”

“But you’ll try the witch, won’t you?” Chris pushed, again.

Georgi directed his gaze at the paused video and gave a hesitant nod.

“If you think it’s a good idea…”

“It’s a brilliant idea,” Chris said, squeezing his shoulder and giving it a little shake.

They watched the video two more times to get down the basics of the choreography, which were also printed out on a sheet by the laptop in a bullet point list of moves. During the second go, Chris could see Georgi staring intently through the monitor instead of following the dancers, brow drawn in concentration. He moved away from the side of the rink immediately as the video came to a stop.

Chris closed the laptop and turned, watching with interest as Georgi mindlessly reached across to stretch his left arm by pulling one elbow down behind his head with his right hand.

“What do you find attractive in a man?” he asked Chris.

Chris had to laugh at how unexpected the question was.

“What?”

“This witch is trying to seduce the young artist you are playing. There are several parts where she comes to him,” Georgi continued, dropping his arms and shaking out his hands. “You don’t really get into character, do you? Then I need to appeal to you.”

“Do what you think is right. I’m not picky.”

Georgi was at least courteous enough not to voice the ‘you don’t say’ that crossed his expression as his eyebrows shot up. Chris just grinned. Nervous but smitten, hot and heavy, clumsy and enthusiastic, coy and teasing, experienced and focused… it was simply hot to be seduced and he had sampled enough of the many various ways in which it happened to know that he liked them all.

“Well… I’ll come up with something,” Georgi said, vaguely.

Moments too late, Chris realised that Georgi had been asking for pointers, not just inspiration. The way he’d snapped at him before was proof enough Georgi thought of seduction as a game he always lost. In fact, if his soulmate was out there pouring his efforts into relationships with other people, Georgi might not have any recent examples of being seduced, either.

“Let’s think about it,” Chris said, cheerfully, “since it’s the artist, not me. I can play a little bit.”

“It’s a very soft, all-encompassing young love in the first movement,” Georgi said, somewhat more lively.

“And in the second one he’s obsessive,” Chris guessed.

“Lovesick,” Georgi added. “She is pulling away to make him come and he’s grasping at every straw. She would make sure never to go away so far that he can’t follow, though. And she’d show him what he wants to see.”

“The way I know Victor and Yuuri, we’re definitely getting full-on sappy soulmate romance in their performance,” Chris said with a chuckle. “They won’t be able to resist. Why don’t we lean on sex more to make it distinctive?”

“Are you _sure_ you don’t want to be the witch?” Georgi asked, doubtfully.

“Yes,” Chris said, cutting off that discussion. “Besides, you just have to beckon a bit on your own. The really seductive parts should be when we’re together and you’ve got me there to help.”

“It might be an effort not to pale next to your…”

Georgi paused, groping for a word.

“Mature male eros?” Chris suggested, grinning. “I have faith in you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to listen to Chris' and Georgi's program song, [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s5HFufPG31g) is a good video.


	3. Chapter 3

Victor used to have a guest bed room that Chris would use when he visited him in St. Petersburg, but it now belonged to Yuuri and they had not kept up the pretence that he needed an extra bed in there and had subsequently replaced it with a treadmill. This left Chris to take up residence on the couch in the living room until he’d manage to find a place for himself and his cat. Between getting to know the staff at the Sports Champions Club and adapting to his new practice regimen over the last week, however, Chris hadn’t even had time to consider apartment hunting yet, especially since he’d probably be combing through ads in Cyrillic and would need some quality time with an online dictionary if he wanted to understand all the details.

Fortunately, Victor’s and Yuuri’s apartment was not a bad place to stay if you didn’t mind the occasional late-night attack from the giant poodle who wanted to play second blanket. It was only late March, though, and cold to the point that Chris sometimes questioned if humans were really meant to live this far up north at all, so that was bearable. Makkachin preferred shacking up with the newly-engaged couple most nights, anyway, to the great relief of Chris’ own pet, Bae, who had no love left for big, slobbering, friendly dogs who stole attention and space on Chris’ chest away from her. Still, Chris wanted to get out as fast as possible. Victor and Yuuri were friendly hosts and seemed by all accounts happy to have him, but they had also moved together in December and probably would prefer not to have a third wheel for every painfully cute late weekend breakfast and potentially romantic dinner. Also, if the muffled noises from the bedroom were any indication, they could have made good use of the extra surface Chris was occupying.

While the two of them didn’t complain, Chris’ mother had something to say on the matter when he called her the morning marking the beginning of the second week of his stay.

“I know it’s hard to understand for you, but when you first meet your soulmate, you basically don’t want to share the world with anyone else for a while. Victor and Yuuri will feel that now.”

As so often, Chris felt sorry for her for losing her soulmate so young, and a bit annoyed for himself at the implication that he would just never truly _get_ love. The distant fear that his mother might be right was something he had gotten used to bottling up over the years.

The thoughts faded when he arrived at the rink and, as he sat down on the low bench to pull off his skate guards, saw Georgi already running their ice show choreography. He leaned gently into a turn, effortlessly swapped the forward foot before a jump and extended his arm towards an invisible partner when he landed, palm upturned, the gesture beckoning them closer even as he edged backwards on the ice. The expression on his face was inviting yet marred by a calculating look in his eyes. It wasn’t particularly sexy, but it was alluring in a sort of ice queen-ish way Chris hadn’t expected Georgi to be able to pull off. You could imagine taking his hand knowing you’d end up as an ice statue to decorate the garden before his palace and still, it was oddly tempting, anyway.

Chris put thumb and index finger between his lips and gave a textbook catcall that tore Georgi out of his one-man-show. He looked startled for a moment before a slim smile spread on his face.

“I’m still experimenting,” he said, as Chris joined him on the ice.

It was funny how serious Georgi seemed to take this thing. He obviously liked the music a lot, so maybe it made sense, but Chris had a feeling he’d be pouring his energy into it even if it was a weaker piece, just because he was that kind of all-or-nothing guy. As for him? Chris would admit if he didn’t have a particular affinity for an ice show piece, he coasted on being a good enough skater that he could make it look nice without killing himself over it in practice, anyway. This was probably the same streak of weakness in his personality that led him to slack off when he didn’t feel like he had Victor to chase, which had left him in fifth place in the last GPF. His pride still hadn’t recovered from that.

“You want to run it through a couple of times?”

Georgi nodded his head and gestured towards the far right end of the rink, which was empty of their follow skaters.

They started out separated on the ice, a good few metres between them, before Georgi put on the music on the CD player. Chris turned his back to Georgi and counted down. As the first notes hit, he pushed off into a footwork sequence that went back and forth and in a circle. Behind his back, he could hear the quiet whistle of Georgi’s skates, always shying away from the searching lover’s gaze until, finally, Georgi zipped past him and into his view with a narrow twirl and a turn.

Chris all but lunged for him as he pulled him into the first waltz section. The video had been much more restrained in that regard, but where was the fun in that? He couldn’t have gotten that absolutely startled expression on Georgi’s face with a courteous bow. Despite the surprise, however, Georgi kept up. Neither of them were ice dancers, but they were both old enough to have done a few shows that took them out of their comfort zone. There was just one instance where Georgi put his foot forward in the same moment as Chris did, the tips of their skates colliding before he pulled back hastily.

“Hey, _I_ lead,” Chris said. “Do you need a firmer hand?”

He tugged Georgi roughly into the straight line lift and Georgi gave a brief huff of a laugh. His arm tightened around Chris’ shoulders to take some weight off Chris’ arms and Chris found he could lift him pretty well. He was too tall and heavy to pull off any sustained lifting figures or throw him high enough that he could do a turn in the air, but this was no trouble.

Out of the lift, Georgi sallied away on the ice, holding on to Chris’ hand for a moment until only the tips of their fingers still hooked together and he finally let go. After a brief mirrored step sequence, Georgi escaped him once more and only returned to Chris with a gentle pat between his shoulder blades, surprising the searching artist. Chris turned on the edge of his blade and embraced him while moving behind him, his head leaning intimately against Georgi’s shoulder for a moment. The next part was a short and quick dance, punctuated with a lift that had Georgi’s arms around Chris’ neck and Chris grabbing him at the waist. Chris held on to Georgi so tightly he basically had to tear himself loose to flee. They came together for the last tempestuous section and ended with Chris’ arms around Georgi’s waist again and Georgi’s skates dangling a foot over the ice by the sides of Chris’ legs as he hung in a full layback position, arms spread. Chris let him glide back to the ground slowly, keeping his bent leg between Georgi’s so that he had basically no choice but to come to a halt with Chris’ leg firmly between his own.

“You could pull your leg back once you shift your weight onto the other foot,” Georgi said, as they stood in their final position.

Chris grinned.

“I think our loving artist’s intentions are better portrayed like this.”

Georgi rolled his eyes, though he looked briefly amused.

“Can you do the lifts?”

With a thoughtful expression on his face and no other warning than that, Chris heaved him up once more, which was a lot harder without Georgi’s assistance, but not impossible. Georgi made a noise of protest.

“It’s just three lifts spread out over six minutes, it’s not a problem. You can lean further back on that last one, too. I won’t let you fall.”

“I’ve never been on that side of a lift before. I didn’t want to pull you down with me.”

“You won’t, my footing is secure. Though it’d be thematically right on point if we just ended up lying on top of each other for the final pose.”

Georgi frowned at him, though now he really couldn’t hide the smile anymore.

“I’m not sure that’s intended in the muse-artist relationship…”

“I don’t know. If I had a muse descended from the heavens to help me with my art, I think they would be fucking me. It can be inspiring!”

Georgi ran a hand over his own hair, a soft gesture mindful not to disturb the styling.

“Your niche of artistic expression probably _would_ involve that.”

“If it works…” Chris patted Georgi’s hip. “Are you okay with a bit of groping? I was playing, but I’m not going to do it if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“No,” Georgi said resolutely. “It would be inauthentic for your performance if you didn’t do it. People know what you look like _without_ somebody else, if you turned it down all the way with me…” He shook his head. “That would compromise the whole emotion of the piece.”

“Alright,” Chris said, failing as he tried not to laugh at Georgi’s stern demeanour. “Let’s go again.”

-

They went through the performance a few more times, reviewing the video and moves list in-between, until they had all the basic steps down. The choreography was more beautiful than demanding, especially in comparison to a competition skate. They had already added a few elements in the lulls: Chris would do one of the spin combinations he was so good at while looking around for his love, and Georgi, who jumped high and clean, had garnished his escapes with a quad toe loop and quad Salchow, the second of which Chris mirrored with a triple Salchow as he followed. Georgi had come up with the idea of making his jump one turn shorter, like an echo that didn’t bring him quite in reach, and Chris thought it looked pretty good.

They were sitting over the sheet they had scribbled their ideas on at rink side when Georgi turned the pen between his fingers and sighed.

“I’m still not sure how to do what I need to here.”

“What do you mean?”

“Seducing someone. You. I don’t know how to portray that. I think the sections when we’re separated are fine. I thought that would be harder, but in theory I have that figured out.” His chin had lifted proudly as he spoke, but now he dropped his head between his shoulders. “My idea doesn’t work if I can’t create that contrast when we’re skating together, though. I’m not hot and cold, I’m… lukewarm and cold. I miss that spark you have when we meet on the ice.”

Chris could have given him an array of practical tips. Being alluring was a game for him and he had figured out many of the sleights of hand. However, Georgi dug deeper when he went on the ice, right? It was a process to tap into his emotions, like method acting. Leaning back on the bench, Chris wondered how he could help him there.

“What do you think about when you’re about to have sex?” he asked.

Georgi glanced at him, brows shooting up.

“The moment right before. What’s going through your head?” Chris pushed. “What does it feel like?”

Georgi rubbed the back of his neck, silent for a while. Apparently, he understood what Chris was trying to get at, but still didn’t have an answer ready.

“I don’t think about a lot,” he said eventually. “I’m not focused on the details of the – act, I’m just happy to be with the man I love.”

“Don’t overthink it, then. I don’t see why you’d try to look like a player for this. You can be sexy and in love. That’s what the artist believes, anyway, right? That it’s a love story?” Chris shrugged his shoulders. “So if you don’t know what to do, just... focus on that moment in the bedroom. Or living room. Or bathroom. Or...”

“Thanks, I got it,” Georgi snapped.

Chris laughed. Turning his water bottle slowly in his hands, Georgi finally gave a nod.

“I think I will keep that in mind.”

“Good.”

Chris folded the move sheet.

“Another run through?” Georgi asked.

-

Georgi wasn’t messing around when it came to performance, that was for sure. Chris had known that, obviously, considering how long they had skated alongside each other, and even from his parts this morning. Still, as Georgi shook out his arms, took a deep breath, closed his eyes and then seemed to awake anew with the swelling music this time, there was a whole different force behind it. He threw himself around Chris’ neck with his expression all expectant delight. The waltz and dance parts were tons more fun when Georgi leaned into him without reservations and Chris was amused by himself at how his ego stirred a little at the love-struck looks Georgi was giving him, even knowing it was make-believe. If a hapless young artist were faced with that kind of devotion, he’d have no chance but fall into the hands of the witch.

Since Georgi was going all in, Chris had to make sure he wouldn’t look boring by his side. On the first lift where Georgi was facing him, he kept some momentum and turned it into a little circle, as if he was twirling his returned boyfriend on a train platform, instead of going with the straight line lift. He felt Georgi’s grip on his neck tighten in surprise before he laughed, a deep, pleased sound. For the next dance, Chris made sure to pull Georgi as close as possible without tangling their legs up, keeping a hand at Georgi’s hip whenever he could. In the layback lift, Georgi for the first time allowed his centre of gravity to shift all the way back, leaving his fate completely in Chris’ hands. It was harder on Chris to hold him like this, but the result looked ten times better.

“Is this too much?” Georgi asked, as he let go off Chris after the final pose, slightly out of breath.

“No,” Chris said. “It’s waltzing! People got all up in arms about it being indecent when it first came around. Better to be risqué than boring.”

“Waltzes can look very tame,” Georgi agreed, leaning on the rink border. “Though I doubt any you are involved in ever do.”

“ _Nothing_ I’m involved in looks tame.”

Georgi laughed, but was distracted by his gym jacket, which laid folded on the bench. The pocket had started vibrating.

When he picked up his phone, the smile that had remained on his face faded. Chris turned away to give an impression that he wasn’t listening in, but he heard him regardless.

“I’m sorry, I have practice, I didn’t see you had called.” Georgi paused. “I don’t _always_ have practice, but I – alright.” Another pause as he listened to the other side. “Oh, the blue one? I think that’s at my place since…” He interrupted himself again. “No, I don’t need it, I just like having it because it smells like you.”

Chris found himself discreetly glancing over his shoulder because Georgi had begun to sound upset.

“I don’t think that’s a stupid reason at all!” Judging by Georgi’s expression, the voice on the other end disagreed. Chris hazarded a silent guess that he was talking to Ilya. “I’ll bring it to you on my lunch break,” Georgi said after a long, quiet exhale. “We’re still meeting up on Friday, right?” Another short pause. “Great. I love y-.”

The last word was cut off when Georgi halted and moved the phone from his ear, the screen showing the frozen time of the call’s length, revealing that he had been hung up on. Chris turned away again when he saw Georgi’s attention straying from his phone. He heard him clip on his skate guards.

“I have something to do. Can we continue tomorrow?”

“Yeah, sure,” Chris said, grinning at him. “Can’t wait.”

Georgi, lost in thought, did not return the smile as he turned towards the door.


	4. Chapter 4

“How is your ice dance going?”

Chris hoisted his gym bag into a locker and grinned at Victor across the changing room.

“I’d say it’s looking pretty good. I have to apologise, though.”

“Why is that?”

“Well, it will be a bit awkward to get overshadowed by two rink mates in a lover’s duet when you’re skating with your actual soulmate and soon-to-be husband…”

Victor laughed as he tightened the laces on his left skate.

“Is that so? I think I’ll have to watch you practice sometime.”

“Be our guest!”

Chris had already seen Victor and Yuuri do their piece and though the two of them were sickeningly adorable as usual, he had a feeling Georgi and him had a chance to stay in people’s minds longer. They told more of a story whereas the young lovers looked mostly caught up in just dancing together; and while that was authentic, if Chris had learned one thing from being someone who was always on the outside looking in when it came to romance, it was that most people eventually got bored watching two strangers moon over each other.

“I didn’t think you’d spent so much time on it,” Victor said, with curiosity in his voice.

“I might not have, but Georgi is _intense_ about performance, even for an ice show piece,” Chris answered. “I’ve had a lot of fun skating with him, too.”

Over the last days, they had continued to work on their skate, taking hours out of regular training or patching them on to run the choreography until it became muscle memory, and going through various bits and pieces to fine-tune them. It was actually a fun diversion from the more rigorous practice of elements that had to hold up in front of a jury, Chris found.

“Georgi said something similar about you,” Victor answered.

“Yeah?”

“He was worried your styles wouldn’t match, but last we spoke he was excited about portraying emotion in a new way with you.” Victor chuckled. “That’s how he put it, I think.”

Chris had to laugh. “Sounds like him.” He paused, locker door still in hand. “Hey, speaking of Georgi… what’s up with that soulmate of his?”

Victor’s smile turned sardonic almost immediately. “Ilya?”

“Are they broken up or something?”

Georgi had shown him that photo of Ilya with another man, and the phone conversation he had overheard hadn’t exactly sounded like they were on amazing terms, either. However, Georgi had mentioned in Saturday’s training session that he’d been out at Ilya’s place the evening before and that it had been a pain to find a way to get home in the middle of the night. Chris hadn’t dared to ask why sleeping at his soulmate’s place hadn’t been an option, sensing a conversational trip mine.

“Probably not. It’s been this half-and-half thing since they’ve met, so I don’t really bother asking anymore.”

“Georgi said Ilya had another boyfriend, though?”

“Ilya does that,” Victor answered flatly.

“That’s cryptic.”

Sighing, Victor got up and leaned against the wall next to the lockers.

“I’m no fan of Ilya. He’s the main reason I waited so long to contact Yuuri after that banquet, to be honest, even though I knew whose mark it was. I shouldn’t have done that – it made Yuuri really insecure.” He glanced out the high, narrow windows at left wall of the room. “I was scared.”

“Now this I have to hear,” Chris said, slapping the locker shut. “How did Georgi’s soulmate keep you from going after yours?”

Victor crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“That thing between him and Georgi… it’s not like with Yakov and Lilia, for example.” He shrugged “They’re soulmates and they’ve split up, but you can clearly see they care for each other still, they just don’t work very well as a couple. Their personalities are too big. And even now they can’t really stay away from each other completely, even if they wouldn’t admit it.” He looked fond for a moment, but then shook his head. “From what I can tell, Ilya just can’t stand Georgi. Whenever I seem them together, he makes fun of the things he says and does and brushes him off. I don’t know what they get up to in private, of course, but I can’t really imagine it’s much better.” He frowned. “Georgi’s a weirdo, but…”

“No reason to be an ass about it,” Chris finished.

Victor made a vague sound of agreement. “Ilya also thinks figure skating is stupid and hasn’t watched Georgi skate in forever, not even on TV.”

“Hasn’t Georgi dedicated half the skates in his career to that man?” Chris asked, baffled.

“More than that. Hasn’t made Ilya reach for the remote. And you know, I probably wouldn’t mind Ilya that much if he actually broke up with Georgi, but he doesn’t. Georgi says his argument has always been that they’re ‘too young to settle’. At first he said it was Georgi’s fault because Georgi spent too much time at the rink to be his boyfriend, but when Georgi offered to retire for him-”

“Are you serious?”

“Eight years ago,” Victor said with a nod.

Chris thought for a moment if there had been an injury or major slump that might have sparked that idea, but came up blank.

“Wasn’t that the season when he got silver at Worlds?”

“It was, and he would have thrown it all away for Ilya. If you ask me, back-paddling on wanting him to quit was the one good thing Ilya ever did for Georgi. Of course, it was just because he didn’t want to stop sleeping around and keeping Georgi on the side.”

“If Ilya likes him so little, why _doesn’t_ he get rid of him?”

Victor threw up his hands.

“Don’t ask me. I guess he understands he won’t get another chance at a soulmate. Besides, once you’ve felt what it’s like to be with your soulmate, just physically being close… I can see how it’s hard to give up on.” He seemed wistful for a moment. “The thing is, Georgi does stay. There’s no reason for Ilya to stop. He can have it all because Georgi is such a push-over for him,” Victor continued with a frown. However, he glanced at the windows again, then. “But I can’t say anything. Sometimes I want Georgi to leave, it’s not fun to see him suffer. If you do try to make it work that hard, though, it makes sense it would be with your soulmate.” Slowly, he rocked back and forth on his skate guards. “That’s why I was afraid. For ten years I’ve seen Georgi imprisoned in this relationship and every day Yuuri didn’t try to contact me, I wondered more if I wasn’t what he wanted. I thought maybe we would be just like they are.”

At Victor’s anxious tone, Chris shook his head.

“I think after the season you two showed us all, there’s no reason to worry, anymore.”

“You’re right,” Victor said, brightening as he was pulled from his brooding old fears.

“Makes you wonder how two men like that end up matched,” Chris said, cocking his head. “I guess people who are serial killers or something have soulmates, too, and those aren’t always criminals.”

Victor huffed a laugh.

“Okay, I hate Ilya, but he hasn’t killed anybody.” He pushed off the wall. “Then again, if you give him five more years with that man, Georgi might put himself out of his misery.”

Chris raised a brow

“That’s some dark humour.”

“I’m not sure I’m joking,” Victor said quietly, nudging the door of the changing room open.

-

At the rink, Chris spotted Georgi and Yuri on the ice, the latter with his hands shoved deep in his pockets as he watched Georgi take a couple of steps of run-up and then transition into a beautiful Biellmann spin, his spine and the leg lifted up behind his head arched into a narrow upwards curve with nary a hitch, both hands holding the skate. He slowed down before he let his leg come down to the ice.

“Do you see what I mean? Your head drops forwards and you tip your knee too far. You need to think of your leg, back and neck as one continuous line,” Georgi said, turning to Yuri.

“Yeah, okay.”

Despite the stroppy tone of the answer, Chris had seen how closely Yuri had watched Georgi when he performed for him.

“I don’t even know if I can still do that next year, though,” Yuri added, looking down at himself.

His body had not changed much from how it had been all season, but Chris was almost certain Yuri had gained an inch, at least. He himself still remembered the feeling of watching a ticking time bomb that the teenager years had brought, when you didn’t know if your body was still anywhere as perfectly suited to your profession in a year’s time, or at the very least whether you had to relearn the balance of every single element you had ever included in a performance. Chris, being among the tallest in the men’s singles roster, had certainly gotten to go through the latter exercise, with no small amount of frustration.

“You could get unlucky, but I kept it past my last growth spurt. You just have to be careful to stretch more. If it gets that far, I can help you,” Georgi offered.

Yuri nodded his head. As Georgi turned idly on his skates, his eyes finally fell on Chris watching them from the rink border.

“Ah, you’re here.”

“Finish up,” Chris said with a wave of his hand. “I can wait.”

“No, I’m okay,” Yuri said, pushing away.

Georgi watched him with a hint of a smile.

“Victor two-point-oh?” Chris asked, when Georgi joined his side.

“He tries to brute-force things more, but he certainly has the raw talent.”

“The two of us can never catch a break, can we?”

Of course, when Victor had paused for half the season, Chris had only managed a paltry fifth place in the Grand Prix Final, something that still ate at him more than he was ready to admit.

Georgi lifted his chin.

“At least you can still win your Nationals. I always had silver and I’m down to bronze now.”

“But you’re not slowing down in your old age, I see. I didn’t know you could still do a Biellmann spin.”

“It has been a bit hard on my back for the last couple of years, so I don’t put it in programs I have to do over and over anymore,” Georgi admitted.

“Makes sense. But still – good to know.”

“Why?”

“Flexibility is never wasted on handsome men. Someone will make good use of it,” Chris said with a wink.

Georgi stumbled a little in the curve he had made on the ice and then shook his head.

“You’re impossible.”

“Just charmed by a witch,” Chris said, slapping his backside. Georgi jumped and Chris had to laugh. “Come on, let’s go.”

As they set up on the ice, Chris noticed Georgi glance over at Victor and Yuuri, who were similarly moving towards their starting positions at the other end of the rink. Victor turned to them and gave his best for-the-cameras smile.

“You should watch us first. We can show you how it’s done,” he said sweetly.

Georgi’s eyes glinted.

“Is that so?” he asked, holding Victor’s gaze.

Yuuri sent Chris a confused look, but Chris just shrugged and grinned. He wasn’t the only one with an old and annoyingly lopsided rivalry with Victor, Georgi had certainly had his share of it, too. Yuuri had just never been someone who really sought out specific people to beat before he met Yuri, who crashed into his life with the challenge ready and no way for him to run. No, Yuuri’s rise to the top had been more benevolently inspired, in the innocent hope of skating on the same ice as Victor, never quite imagining he would ever beat him. What a poor, pure soul in the middle of the three of them and all their grudges.

“Let’s see it, then,” Chris said.

Chris leaned against the border as Yuuri and Victor took their places. Georgi found the right CD in the heap of clutter on the small table by the side of the rink.

When the music started, Victor and Yuuri were already gazing into each other’s eyes from across opposite ends of the ice like there was nothing else in the world. The execution of their shy courting dance was flawless, of course, since Yuuri was running a lot of the figures he was so good at, elegantly and effortlessly gliding across the ice, while Victor was technically brilliant as usual and engaging in his performance, with Yuuri right there to motivate him. There were a quad toe loop from Yuuri and a quad flip from Victor, an overhead lift, and a lot of narrow turns and circles they took together, standing almost chest to chest. It was another _Stammi Vicino_ – as pretty and touching in its honesty as the last one, but not, Chris thought, all that original.

When they ended on a slow spin holding each other’s hands, Chris made a noise like he’d seen a puppy.

“How adorable!”

“And you can do better?” Victor asked, with Yuuri giving a brief smile that Chris thought had a hint of competitiveness in it, too.

“Oh, no, we’ll leave the middle school romance to you,” Chris said easily, offering his hand to his partner. Georgi grasped it and let Chris pull him closer. “We have something else planned.”

It was Yuuri at the CD player this time, Victor leaning next to him onto the table. Chris and Georgi also started apart, but where Yuuri and Victor had searched each other in curious but timid attraction, Georgi and Chris entered their desperate back and forth from the first note. Georgi had never taken their practice anything less than deadly serious, but Chris saw that he was making extra sure that his posture and execution were on point now. Being under the eyes of Victor had always stoked Georgi’s eagerness and Yuuri had overtaken him last season, too. He allowed the melody to sweep him away into Chris arms and Chris reminded himself not to slip too deep into the role of seducer that he had in so many of his other skates, the one that came naturally to him. There needed to be some vulnerability showing through for this unhappy artist. When he lifted Georgi into his arms and held him close in a rush of a turn just before Georgi slipped away from him again, he felt a moment of genuine if playful frustration, snatching at the air. As he captured Georgi for the final pose, the possessive grip on him matched the intensity of Georgi all but colliding with him, preventing a wobble of their stances only with an expert narrow stop on one foot.

“What do you think _now_?” Georgi asked Victor, who smiled at him, but, to Chris’ amusement, had lost a little of the self-assured carelessness that had before been in his expression.

“Chris seems to be an inspiring man, but I think Yuuri still beats you as a muse.”

“But he’s way too cute to be a witch,” Chris pointed out, patting Yuuri on the shoulder. “No offense, but Georgi has more of an edge.”

“I’m not ‘cute’,” Yuuri muttered.

“Yuuri can have an edge if he wants to,” Victor exclaimed, apparently offended that Chris would think otherwise. “We are still experimenting, too.”

“So are we,” Georgi gave back, immediately, though Chris and him hadn’t changed anything substantial about the choreography all week, and nothing Chris had seen from Victor and Yuuri suggested they had made any significant alterations lately, either.

“If any of you work this hard on your _actual_ programs, you should all make the podiums next year,” Yakov interrupted their squabble. Chris hadn’t even noticed him approaching.

“Just separate them already,” Yuri muttered with a grimace. He had been watching their routines while stretching at the rink border, his chin leaning on his knee as his fingers wrapped around his skate boot. “Nobody needs to see this.”

“Aw, Yuri, don’t be jealous. If you want to do a duet, too, then I’ll make an exception for you,” Mila offered, laughing.

While Yakov was busy taking Yuri to task for his less than courteous interruption, Chris turned to Georgi and tapped him on the shoulder.

“I have an idea for something we could add to steal the thunder from the dream team,” he said, under his breath.

Georgi raised a brow, interest clear on his face.

-

As Chris stretched out on the couch that night, hair still damp from the shower, he heard the muffled noises from the bedroom as soon as the sofa stopped creaking under his weight. With a grin, he considered whether he should knock on the door and tell them they didn’t have to keep it down for his sake, but knowing Yuuri, being aware that Chris had heard them would probably end all exploits for at least that night, if not all the ones he stayed here, and Chris wouldn’t do that to the two of them.

Still, it was a bit sad, lying here listening to them enjoying themselves while he was too tired to go out and try his lacking Russian out on the first pretty person he saw in a bar. Given these tragic circumstances, he would have to take comfort in himself, Chris decided, turning to fumble for a tissue in his backpack leaning against the side of the sofa.

As he pulled down the elastic band of his shorts and took himself in hand, his thoughts wandered leisurely between the possible fantasies with which he could entertain himself. However, what sprang quickly to mind instead of one of his go-to images was the firm grasp of Georgi’s hands on him as he brought them together for a heated reunion after the chase, and the wiry, muscular build of his body that Chris had been touching all over for the last few days.

Well, why not? Chris had never been ashamed to draw from real life inspiration in his sessions alone and besides, he had always thought that if his emotional explosions on the ice were anything to go by, Georgi should be great fun in bed. With how much they’d been lying in each other’s arms for the last week, Chris didn’t have to add overmuch imagination, other than tilting them horizontal, either. He imagined Georgi’s long, naked legs hooked around his waist as he pulled Chris’ closer, his mouth eagerly nipping at Chris’ neck, breathless and red-faced as he’d be after the third run through their choreography. There’d be push-back as Chris ploughed into him, Georgi eagerly lifting his hips to meet him, fingers digging into Chris back. There was a fluid switch of positions, from one thought to the next, to Georgi riding him with shallow, quick, greedy downwards thrusts of his whole body, and Chris came into his tissue thinking of Georgi spreading his legs as his head dropped forward onto the pillow, muffling moans as Chris took him from behind.

Crumpling the paper in his hand, he wondered briefly when the last time had been that Georgi had gotten fucked as well as he did in Chris’ head. It didn’t seem like his soulmate was showing him much of a good time, but then, some people thrived on trysts laced with animosity, so perhaps that was what they were doing in their sporadic meetings. Judging by Georgi’s mood the day after their dates, though, which Chris had now gotten to witness a couple of times, Chris doubted it. He hadn’t exactly been swaggering or swooning. Truth be told, Chris couldn’t see starry-eyed romantic Georgi really getting into the whole hate sex thing, anyway.

In real life, of course, it wasn’t Chris’ business. Georgi was obviously attached to this Ilya and he did have the order to be so written in his skin by fate. It just seemed a bit of a waste – not just for the theoretical passionate sex Georgi was missing out on, but because Georgi really was a pretty fun guy to be around.

Well, you couldn’t change destiny.


End file.
